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Her hair lay draped across her shoulders, shuddering in the wind. Nothing moved inside the room, except the darkness, which seemed to swell up and move like a mist in the cold winter's wind. Water lay silent upon the floor, occasionally touching her cold skin, but she didn't retract her foot in pain, fear nor shock, she sat beyond that now.

Only eternity does her body recognise, pure, white eternity, in all of it's unnatural beauty. But it was time and not eternity that gripped the room in which she sat, cold as the night, silent as the winter and dark as the last sunset on the last day of existence. Now it was time that stalked her, in the natural course of things it would seem, time always catches you, unaware, unable to defend yourself from its crippling grip. But she smiles at this now, in her moment, her loss, but her victory, for she knows that time is the only pursuer which no one can out wit.

A black raven swoops in thorough the open window and makes it's nest on the bare floor, but a few steps from the girl, not noticing her, not caring for the span of time but living in the moment, as all animals do. It's black wings slung smartly across its silky black back. They lay waiting for their masters call, waiting for the moment to strike into action and fly free out to the world, without a care to be remembered, nor a thought worth forgetting. He pecks violently at the floor, in a vain attempt to catch a worm from its stone surface. But it does not give in; it pecks and pecks and pecks and pecks. With a tap tap taping which sends rhythms through the darkness like a heart beat in a silent forest, never ceasing.

The darkness washes over the room once again, consuming it, but not from the world this time, for the world goes on, regardless of tragedy, romance or betrayal. And the swift sway of the trees suddenly becomes real, and enters the mind of the darkness, emptying it of silence and filling it with the perfection of nature which stirs the pool's darkness, like the moon in the night's sky. The stir becomes a sound and the sound an echo that rocks the pool of blood, which coats the floor.

She suddenly stirs, her heart begins to beat and then jumps once again as the tap tap tapping stops and the raven fly’s off into the rising sun. She looks down her hair now draping on her body and cries as she sees her baby with its throat slit, lying naked on the floor, all because the world of man could not accept a single mother with no time for herself. The bitterness of the day now etched the shapeless room's bare form and her sobs ceased with a sudden shot in the night the jungle grew silent and the darkness once again drew in.

Remember my friend, despite all you are, all we are, the universe will tick on, long past our departure.

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The following comments are for "And So We Wait"
by Thea Veol

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